


And I Shall Beg For Your Mercy

by RustDyke



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood, Dark, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Enemies to... devotion?, F/F, Femslash, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, I haven't slept in days, Imprisonment, I’m indulging my masochism and sub stuff sorry, Porn With Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Sporadic Updates, Torture, Violence, Worship, but not like extremely graphic, graphic sexual sadomasochism so please be warned, please read story notes first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RustDyke/pseuds/RustDyke
Summary: The King of Liberation is dead, slain by the warrior-saint Seiros, and the remnants of Nemesis's kingdom crumble before the inexorable tide of her crusade for vengeance.Glory through strength was all that Sieghild von Daphnel had known, the absolute truth that crushed their enemies and delivered the people of Fódlan to an exalted future, until that belief was crushed along with her father and family beneath the false saint's heel, and Sieghild was prepared to join their end upon their killer's blade with a warrior's pride.But Seiros had other plans for the last scion of Daphnel in her vision of Fódlan's future.This is the story of how one of the heirs of the Ten Elites was broken and made to submit to her conqueror.CW: This is explicitly a graphic kink gay sex fic so please be warned if you're here for my usual kinds of stories. More explanation in notes.
Relationships: Seiros/Original Character
Kudos: 8





	And I Shall Beg For Your Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Violence within a power dynamic, coerced submission, canon typical violence, etc. Absolutely no straight up noncon-sex though, I can’t
> 
> I've never written anything like this, like intensely questionable sexual dynamic stuff but I wanted to try, so uh, sorry to everyone. 
> 
> So I used an original character here and that's usually not my jam for fanfics but for some reason I'm really uncomfortable with personally writing more explicit kink between two established characters.
> 
> But also I'm a masochistic lesbian with a thing for villainesses and the complexity of Seiros makes her such a compelling one, and using my own character as the uhhh, sub?, feels less conflicting, like I’m personally consenting, sorta. I’m weird about these things.
> 
> Anyway yeah here you go if this is your thing, my half-delirious writing, courtesy of my strained mental state
> 
> Edit: Eventually gonna tweak some things and make sure it meets my standards and I firmly know where I wanna take it.

The first thing she was aware of when she woke was that she could see nothing. A brief jolt of panic maddeningly ricocheted through her racing heart. In an instant her breathing became rapid, uneven, and fear drove her to struggle, only to find that she could not move either. Her arms were bound behind her back, she could feel their biting irritation on her wrists in her brief but violent flail. She next noticed that she was on her knees, and they were raw from scraping against the gravelly soil beneath. Her back was against something sturdy, too curved to be a wall. The painful prickling of the otherwise smooth surface against her back let her imagine it was a large wooden post, and she realized her arms and legs were fettered behind her, securing her firmly to it. Her body writhed with pain, from the raw surfaces of her skin to the deep aching within her bones, bringing her to realize that she had been stripped of her armor, which meant, to her alarm, that she was left in nothing but her smallclothes. Her head throbbed in agony, as if her skull had been split in two, though if that were the case she supposed she would have been dead, free of this pain and fear. She couldn’t stand, she could barely shift herself at all, and she could not even see where it was that she had been imprisoned, courtesy of, she realized, the linen strips wrapped tightly over her eyes and around her head.

Imprisoned. Yes, that was it. She had been captured. The thick sludge of her thoughts began to part and she began to remember. Sieghild von Daphnel, that was her name. Youngest daughter of Lord Daphnel himself, one of the indomitable generals of King Nemesis’s army, the wielder of the mighty lance, Lúin. And he was dead. Her father was dead. She wouldn’t have believed it for even a moment if it had not been for the fact that she had seen it for herself– the great spear of power pulled from his grip as he was unseated from his horse. His armor caked in mud as he struggled to find his footing in the flatland flooded by rain. Least of all his killer standing above him, her sword driven through his ocularium before he could even rise to face her. The seething obsession she wore upon her face had burned itself into Sieghild’s mind. That wicked devil who styled herself as a bringer of light when the only thing she had brought down upon the land was suffering and ruin.

Seiros.

That cruel harpy and her willingly blind followers that sought to unmake everything the King of Liberation had done for Fódlan. They would see the people of this land soft and content once again, their weakness ensuring that foreign invaders who would prey upon them all. She had not yet been born when Seiros and her puppet, that cowardly dastard Wilhelm, dared to rise to challenge their rightful king, and by the time she had reached the age to follow her esteemed father’s footsteps and become a warrior, Nemesis had already fallen. It should not have been possible. The power their king wielded could never have been challenged, he was a god risen among men. That’s what they had all believed. Rumor flew on the wings of owls before her father had returned to their castle, and only when the ill tidings came in his own words did it finally feel real. She couldn’t fathom what manner of terrible fell magic that accursed harpy used that would have brought an end to the king who made Fódlan the mightiest in the world. It was supposed to be by the righteousness of their own power that they would conquer their neighbors and unknown lands beyond. Almyra, Sreng, Duscur– all would be laid low by their rightful rulers. She had still clung to the idea that her father and the remaining champions of liberation would destroy Seiros and her damned “church” and continue the legacy of their king. That was until that terrible battle upon the riverlands between the domains of her father and Lord Charon. Her eldest brother Stefan was the first to fall, driven by his zeal in living up to the legacy of their father. He was run through by a charging knight’s lance in a clash of cavalry, not even receiving the honor of falling to their hated foe. Her father had cut his way through to the false saint in a tempest of fury, scores of imperial knights falling to his radiant weapon before he too was slain. It was her brother, Klaus, who followed, driven into a frenzy with grief. Seiros cleaved his head from his shoulders without a second glance. He was not even worth her consideration. With all the family Sieghild had cut down before her very eyes, there was nothing left for her but valor in death, and she was determined to avenge her father and brothers or to breathe her last upon that accursed woman’s sword in her final endeavour. With steel sabatons sinking into the muck beneath them, her zweihänder had sundered steel, flesh, and bone with the boon of her crest, the power of her birthright. Her enemy waited for her, the pale green of her eyes affixed and unblinking as if she were content to judge the determination of a young girl driven to her limits by hatred. However, Seiros was not her first focus. She had pushed through even as her crest burned feverishly within her. Her body had felt as if it would fall to shreds if she faltered for even a moment. She had thought she would welcome such a death. She would seize her glory in her final act. She would set herself aflame and burn all around her to ash. The opening for her gambit had presented itself when she had buried her sword straight through the breastplate of one last knight that stood between her and the self-destructive path she carved. She dived through the mud and seized her father’s lance. Lúin lit in her hands in an inferno, feeding off the visible manifestation of her crest and the depths of despairing hatred that impelled her. A thought flashed briefly through her racing mind, of being unceremoniously killed where she lay while scrambling to her feet in the slick mire that threatened to steal her footing out from underneath her, just like her father had been, yet when she finally stood ready, her foe hadn’t moved at all. Seiros’s intent was plain for Sieghild to see– she was waiting for her. When she hadn’t even given her father or elder brothers a chance, she waited for her. The thought drove Sieghild to ferocity nearly as blinding as the lance clutched in her hands. That witch and all who worshipped her would fall. They would bleed, they would burn, they would writhe in agony on the end of her fury. That was the single thought running through her mind. Then she saw a flash of movement and a convulsion of agony through her gut. The dark scape of clouds suddenly laid out before her view somehow looked more formless than ever. In the haze of dying she barely recognized the dark slits upon a glare of emerald looking down upon her before a sandaled foot was smashed to her temple. 

And now she was here, wherever this was, no doubt at the mercy of that monster and her slaves. What could they possibly want from her? Her father was dead and she was his sole remaining heir. Lúin was likely now in their hands and she could not even bring herself to hope that her forces had won the day if she was now held prisoner. The legacy of Daphnel was no more. What could they possibly hope to gain from her? Some gleaning of the remaining elites of Nemesis’s crumbling kingdom? Well they would be sorely disappointed. Being so young and green, she had been under the direct command of her father, and so she had little input or inclusion in planning their campaign. She would have laughed aloud at the bitter thought if her throat were not so dry and raw. Gods she would gladly kill with hands and teeth for a skin of water. Or better yet, she wished that these cockless bastards would simply kill her once they realized she hadn’t a sliver of useful knowledge to give them and save her the shame of rotting away in a dungeon for the rest of her life. Maybe then the gods would still grant her a place in their vaunted hall where her brothers and father would surely be waiting for her. Damn Seiros to the pits of the earth if she would take even that from her.

# 

The sound of clanking armor broke Sieghild free from the seemingly endless stasis of uncertain misery that had engulfed her for gods know how long. She could not see who they were or exactly how many had entered wherever she was. Though by the lack of echoes in their heavy footfalls she could picture that she was at the very least she was not being held in the confines of a dungeon. The air hadn’t been stale enough anyhow, but the lack of breeze or sunlight upon her skin told her that she was not chained outside, to her relief. The idea of being displayed in her vulnerability for all of the enemy army to see made her shudder in revulsion. 

“Why is she not gagged?”

The familiar voice brough Seighild’s insides to a boil with renewed vigor.

“Seiros! You vile demon! Face me properly and I’ll mount her head on my father’s spear you rotten cunt whore!” Sieghild heard the ragged words tear themselves free of her sore throat before she had even realized that she was speaking them. 

“My d-deepest apologies, Lady Seiros! I’ll shut her up good for insulting your ladyship’s honor.” a man spoke up in a hastened fluster. Sniveling rat, so eager to bend over on hands and knees for the first whore would would take him, Sieghild thought. 

“No, there is no need. You are both dismissed.” Seiros replied. If she had at all been irked by Sieghild’s outburst then it was not carried in her tone. There was no petty anger in her words, just baleful resolve. 

Both soldiers gave their deference and stiffly marched away, leaving just the two of them– the sole scion of Daphnel and the monster who had extinguished everything.

“Now, daughter of Daphnel” Seiros began. Sieghild could hear her approach with steps softened by dampened soil. They must have been in a tent somewhere in the Imperial army’s camp, thought knowing as much hardly changed her circumstances. “You will start by telling me your name”

Sieghild felt bile rise in her throat at the belittling tone to the woman’s voice. “Go fuck yourself.”

Her toothless defiance was met with a blow to her cheek bone that sent her senses spinning despite her lack of sight.

“You forget yourself, daughter of Daphnel.” A hint of contempt seeped through her words like darkened blood dripping from the point of a dagger. “If you think your insolence will push me to untether you then you are mistaken. Your father is gone from this world, but his sins have yet to be repented for.”

With the swelling of her cheek and the coppery taste of blood reminding her of the consequence of a spiteful tongue, Sieghild almost hesitated to speak back. Almost. “You’ve yet to pay for how you’ve made our land sickly and weak. Kill me, kill all of us, but you and all your ilk will bleed upon barren soil when the hordes of outsiders butcher you all, down to the last child, and then the lot of you will lament the day you-”

The next fist came to her nose and her teeth clenched down on her tongue, adding to the dizzying pain. Sieghild could not stop the shameful cries of pain that escaped her lips.

“What do you know of blood spilt upon this land!?” the false saint’s tempered voice rose to a roar that nearly made the defiant warrior flinch. “You know nothing! Nothing of what your wicked king has done. What your father has done. They have paid for their crimes with their lives and had I been less forgiving, they would suffer for the eternity of their ill-gained years.”

Fingers clenched the sides of her jaw and pulled with a brutal strength that Sieghild did not think possible of her captor. It soberlingly dawned on her that this woman could crush her bones with her bare hands. That was the message being delivered. She had always thought Seiros’s prowess lied in her precision with a blade, in her dazzling agility, but the sheer force she exerted in that single commanding gesture genuinely made every exaggeration of monstrosity about her feel soberingly real. She could have rent the armored suits of her kin and strewn the ground with grotesque viscera if the whim had possessed her. Gods! It felt as if her face was being crushed beneath the claws of a wyvern. Her teeth were going to shatter to pieces in her mouth! This… this creature was going to tear her jaw from her very face. A horrifying image came to her, her own horrid disfigurement cruelly leaving her with a ghoulish visage of her former self, and her festering helpless terror whispered to her— telling her that the sadistic bitch would not grant her the mercy of death afterward. In this world the strong consumed the weak, and Seiros had asserted herself as the dominant predator. Nausea wormed it’s way into the pit of Sieghild’s stomach, the spot where she had been ran through with her enemy’s blade, she realized. She has been healed. She still lived only because the victor had decided so. Seiros had never even seen her as a challenge to her strength. She was simply prey to toy with from the beginning.

“Now,” Seiros loosened her grip ever so slightly, her voice softening to subtle venom “be a good girl and tell me your name.”

**Author's Note:**

> I almost can't believe I wanted to write a sex fic and just ended up doing and exploration on the War of Heroes


End file.
